


Down By The Garden After Dark

by cazrhys



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Illyrian Camps, Illyrians, Long Hair! Rhysand, Mating Bond, Misogyny, Young Rhysand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazrhys/pseuds/cazrhys
Summary: After discovering you're his mate, Rhysand refuses to let history repeat itself
Relationships: Reader / Rhysand (ACoTaR)
Kudos: 20





	Down By The Garden After Dark

Outside, the storm raged, the winds rattling the world and the lighting sending sharp flashes through the sky. You wrapped your arms around your legs, resting your chest on your knees. The storms had always made you uneasy, reminding you that the Illyrian Mountains were nothing but predictable. You refused to go home, the opening of the cave revealing nothing but the heavy rain. 

Currently, your home was worse than death. Home, where they would know you  _ finally  _ bled for the first time. Upon learning of it, you raced toward the mountains, knowing the others were taking shelter from the storm that had been brewing. One final flight before you had it all taken from you and you resorted to a life of servitude. You swallowed the bile in your throat, clenching your fist. Could you make a run for it? Try to survive in the mountains? You hadn’t been taught to hunt — your brothers had done that — but you knew which plants were poisonous. The only thing you had was the clothing on your back. No, you would  _ have  _ to go back. You wouldn’t survive otherwise. 

The Lordling of the camp had been watching you for the last few years, you were more than a late bloomer. For the longest time, you’d thought you were barren. You  _ hoped  _ you were barren. That was an easier fate to the clipping. You hoped your father was right and the Lordling would take you for a wife. You shuttered, biting your lip. 

_ Perhaps dying out here isn’t such a horrid thing. I’ll die free — with my wings _ . 

Cauldron, you loved your wings. 

“Y/n?” A voice asked softly. “Are you hurt?” You jerked. How had they found you? “I can smell blood,” Rhysand slowly walked toward you, hand out as if you were a wounded animal. You chuckled dryly, his long hair plastered to the white tunic he wore. The tunic had turned translucent, revealing the dark swirls that marked his flesh, each one a mark for bravery, skill, and everything a warrior should possess. “Go away,” You whispered, voice cracking. You wanted to wait out the storm, perhaps fly once more. The storm shook the grounds, winds howling fiercely. “That would be quite counterproductive as I’ve drug my ass this entire way,” He kneeled before you, grabbing your arms and tilting them, checking for any sign of injury. Blood, he smelt blood. You pressed your back against the cold stone, glaring into his violet eyes. “Sorry to inconvenience you and your fancy boots,” True to your word, up to his calves were covered in mud. “You shouldn’t have come,” 

Rhys cleared his throat, sitting beside you. Water dripped off his hair, forming small puddles. He hadn’t cut it in years, resulting in it reaching his waist. The dark midnight color had been your favorite, combined with his violet eyes, he’d undoubtedly been the prettiest male that resided in Windhaven. “Your mother is worried sick. Your brothers are looking for you,” Rhysand told you. You sighed through your nose, “Of course she is. Until she realizes what’s happened—” Your voice cracked, wavering as you clenched your fist, leaving red crescents behind. “I don’t want that, Rhysand. How could I expect you to understand? The males… don’t realize  _ or don’t care about  _ the toll it takes on us. From birth, we know we’ll lose the thing we love most. It would be liked cutting off each warrior’s sword hand,” 

Rhysand opened his mouth before shutting it. “What do you want?” You stared at the bellowing trees, threatening to topple over themselves. Likely, you wouldn’t make it back tonight. “My wings. I’d do  _ anything  _ to keep them. I’d do anything to be free,” When you were younger, you dreamed of flying away and never returning. You  _ hated  _ doing chores, watching as the males got everything you wanted. The worst of them were still treated better than the best of the females. Your clipping wouldn’t be done quietly. You’d fight until the end, cursing them all for the roles they’ve played. Rhysand caught your chin between his thumb and finger. In his violet eyes, something flickered. “What all would you give?” He whispered. You turned your head to the side, listening to the violent storm and shivering. “You’ll get sick.” You rolled your eyes. “Good. Perhaps I’ll vomit on them all,” 

You stood, ignoring the seething pain in your womb. You mustn’t have hidden it well enough, Rhysand’s eyebrows pinched in concern. “I want the storm to swallow me whole with no trace left behind,” You wrapped an arm around yourself. Rhysand’s warmth pressed against your back, forcing you to realize how cold you were. “How did you know where to find me?” You questioned. You didn’t move away from his touch this time, closing your eyes as you felt his breath brush against your wings. “You’ve been coming here for years,” Rhysand said after a moment. You frowned, “How do you know that?” Rhysand shrugged. “I can take you back to my cabin if you’d like. No one has to know you’ve returned. After all, It’s only a matter of time until they find you,” 

You felt your heart leap in your chest. “How do I know you won’t return me to my father?” Despite his love for you, your father would clip your wings without another thought. “What could I gain from that? I’m the High Lord’s son,” You bit your lip, refusing to point out that it hadn’t meant much in his village. He had to earn his respect as everyone else did. “Shouldn’t you be there, then?” Another crack of thunder had you considering your options. “No,” He cleared his throat, holding out his hand. You took it. What was the point of plotting to save your wings if you lost them to hypothermia? Within the next few hours, the temperature would drop to something deadly, the harsh rain turning to heavy snows. Like Illyrians themselves, the weather was unpredictable. 

Rhysand pulled you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as you appeared in a cabin — much nicer than your own. Heat seeped from the floor and the walls, the fireplace lit with a fire that made your legs tremble. It was then that you became painfully aware of the wet clothing. “There’s a bath upstairs,” Rhysand’s eyes sparkled. “If you want it,” Rhysand walked with you, leading you upstairs and pausing at a large wooden door. “Why are you doing all this? We’ve hardly spoken,” Rhysand nodded. “There was that time you kicked my ass,” That time had to be nearly twenty years ago, Rhysand merely ten and you eight. You clenched your jaw when you thought of the lashings you’d gotten for that. “I wanted to prove myself. I wanted to be a warrior,” You sighed, pushing your hair from your face. Perhaps you could’ve done more than antagonize Rhysand into fighting you but at the time, it was the most solid plan you had. 

“I’ll set out some clothes for you,” He says, opening the door for you. You walked in, hearing it close behind you. You saw the cabin often as you passed to finish the bare minimum of chores you were given. The water stayed hot, turning your skin a pinkish color. It was odd, your body used to the cold water you often bathed in. After boiling pot after pot for others, you hardly cared when it came to yourself. 

_ High Fae are so pretentious _ , you thought. For the moment, you didn’t care. The bath was built with wings in mind, your wings fitting the groves along the length of the tub. Once you were done, you frowned, drying and putting what Rhysand left for you. A pad of cotton for your blood, an oversized shirt of his, and a pair of pants that had to be his mother's or sisters. You went into the living room, Rhysand’s hair dried and tied to the top of his head and a fresh pair of pants — still shirtless. 

“Sister and mother?” You asked, standing in the doorway. “At Hewn City. Once I came of age, my mother returned to my father. They only come in the summer as my mother wants my sister to know her people,” Rhysand explained. “Why aren’t you with them? Aren’t you the heir?” You hadn’t had the faintest idea of High Fae politics. Sometimes the Illyrians seemed so closed off it was as though you had lived in another world. Until Rhysand, the High Lord and his heirs had hardly given Illyria a second glance. Until times of war, you were left entirely alone. It was the way you all liked it — it was why they  _ hated  _ Rhysand. The princes and lordlings of Illyria hadn’t wanted their practices to change. 

Rhysand cracked a small smile. “My father doesn't like contenders,” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Then why have an heir?” Rhysand motioned for you to sit, which you did, “Children are rare, as you know. He hadn’t expected my mother to have a child. Even so, he hadn’t expected for me to be so powerful,” You scoffed. “That’s… not surprising,” You thought High Fae was too prideful for their own good. Sometimes easy solutions were ignored due to pride or thinking brawn was enough. 

“RHYS!” Someone bellowed as they walked in. Rhysand let out a small sigh, turning around. “Cassian,” He welcomed. “I thought you were spending the night with Greer?” Cassian barked a laugh. “I was — Did you know she was married? Yeah, well, neither did I?” Cassian grinned at you. “The lovely Y/n, I’ve heard? I suppose Rhysand finally got the balls to talk to y—” Rhysand let out a cough, his cheeks heating slightly. “Thank you, Cassian,” Cassian grinned, “Anything for  _ you _ , Rhysie,” You chuckled, watching as the bruise on his eye and the split lip was slowly healing. It would be morning before any sign of it was gone. “Get out,” Rhysand said, grabbing a pillow from the couch and throwing it. Cassian caught it, turning to look at you. “You’d think the little lord would have a little more manners, wouldn’t you? I thought the same,” Cassian clicked his tongue, sitting on the couch beside you and crossing his legs. “But look at him. Not a  _ single  _ manner in sight. Livia would be disappointed,” 

You crossed your legs, sitting a pillow on your lap. “Little Lord?” You asked. Rhysand lets out a small groan, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Cassian hated me,” He clarified. “Long story — but I think you already know,” Of course you knew how the bastards rose through the ranks, fighting in the war and winning glory despite their social status. “I do. Where’s the other one?” Azriel. The spymaster. Cassian, grimacing lightly, told you how displeased they all were with the arrangement in four words. “He’s with Rhysand’s father,” You noticed the annoyance radiating off Rhysand, the slight tick in his jaw. “My apologies if I overstepped,” You said after a moment. “You didn’t. So, why are you here?” Cassian asked. 

“Enjoying my last moments of freedom,” You muttered. You wanted to be flying. The storm, as if reminding you that you couldn’t, shook the windows. Cassian made eye contact with Rhysand. “The clipping. Barbaric bastards,” Cassian hissed. He looked at you. “You don’t have to,” Cassian tells you. “What? Do you think the hundreds of females in this village have  _ chosen  _ to get clipped? It’s not a choice for anyone and it won’t be for me,” You clenched your jaw, biting your cheek at the sharp cramp that ran through you. “Well, you and Rhysand are—” Cassian was quickly cut off by Rhysand. “ _ Enough _ ,” 

You looked between the two of them. “What’s going on?” Cassian and Rhysand are just looking at one another, Cassian with a sharp grin and Rhysand as if he’s willing to throttle the other. You stand, “If it involves me, as it  _ clearly  _ is, I should know,” When you first arrived, Cassian already knew who you were. Not this? It didn’t take a bright person to know something was up. 

Rhysand ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing to worry about,” You raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem likely,” You stood, “Thank you for your help but I have to return home,” You didn’t  _ like  _ this. Males have done this since the dawn of time — invite a female in, make them feel safe and heard, and then  _ hurt  _ them. You didn’t know Rhysand well enough to be so  _ open  _ with him — how could you have been so  _ stupid _ ? 

You would beg your father to keep your wings. You’d ask the camp lord’s son, tell him you’d be willing to do  _ anything _ . Staying at Rhysand’s would only delay the inevitable. It wouldn’t end it. You’d lose your wings whether or not you wanted to. 

“Thank you, Rhysand, but I have to go. My father is looking for me,” You slipped on your shoes, promising to return the clothing. 

The next morning, the scent of rain staining the grass, was the only thing you smelt as you were held down, your father looking  _ away  _ as you pleaded and begged for him to stop them. “Father!” You screamed cheek pressed into the mud as you thrashed around. You fought too harshly to be tied to the pole. “NO!” A knee dug into your back, a pain blossoming in your ribs. You heard a knife unsheathed, everything screaming in protest when your  _ precious  _ wings were grabbed by so many people, pulled apart. A simple cut was all it took. The knife would be laced with herbs that prevented healing. When you were young, your mother had told you of the process. She wanted you to be prepared. So many females had gone without knowing what it would entail. It only made it so much worse. What was crueler, though? Living with knowing what would happen, waiting each day for your body to betray you? 

“Stop,” Someone — Rhysand — said. It was a quiet command, filled with such intensity, that it made them freeze. “Unhand her,” You sobbed, hands slipping in the mud as you tried to crawl away. In getting you here, you were certain they ruined your knee. Whether broken or shattered, it made crawling away much worse than it needed to be. “Rhysand, leave us,” The camp lord’s son sneered, foot slamming onto your back. You let out a low cry. “ _ Please, please, please _ ,” You repeated. It was the only thing you could say, the only words running through your head. “I want to go home,”

Your wings were painfully pulled apart, the sensitive skin quickly overwhelmed by such force. Rhysand took several steps closer, the camp lord’s son’s leg  _ shattering _ . “Do I need to repeat myself?” Another voice entered, one you faintly recognized as the Camp Lord through the blood roaring in your ears. “Listen to the  _ half-breed _ ,” Another sharp scream ran through the camp. “Why should we? She’s  _ nothing _ ,” The knife slid along your wing, blood pouring out and a howl tearing from your throat. An accident, you knew, based on how jagged it was. 

They  _ weren’t  _ lying. You were another nameless girl in the village, nothing notable or extraordinary. You were lucky enough to have the heir feel something — whatever it was — for you. “She’s his mate,” Cassian says. You felt the world stop around you, the blood ceased in your veins, your lungs refused to accept more air, and everything went  _ silent _ . 

You and Rhysand?  _ No.  _ It was impossible… 

“Now,” Rhysand chuckled dryly, violence hardly contained. “Unhand her before you  _ lose  _ those hands.” The Illyrians holding you down let up, you slide out from underneath them, knees sinking in the mud as you let out a cry of relief. “Thank you,” You cried. “Thank you, thank you,” Cassian wrapped his arm around your shoulders, heaving you up. Rhysand kept his eyes on the others,  _ daring  _ them to  _ ever  _ think of harming you. Green netting covered the Camp Lord’s son, who leaned heavily on his father, sweat dripping down his face. His eyes were filled with pain.  _ Good,  _ you thought.  _ Suffer _ . 

It didn’t stop your legs from trembling so fiercely they nearly gave out. “Don’t let them see,” Cassian told you, lips against the shell of your ear. “Thank you,” You told him once you got back to Rhysand’s cabin. “Don’t worry about it,” Cassian says, locking eyes with Rhysand, moving over to whisper something to Rhysand. 

“I’m tracking mud,” You said, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your wings throbbed, humiliation swirling in your chest. “The magic will clean it,” Rhysand said. He smiled softly, a comforting gesture, before saying, “I can help you, if you like,” You nodded after a moment, the cold seeped so deeply into your bones that you couldn’t feel your fingers. Let alone stitch your wings. You weren’t allowed to even  _ consider  _ having a siphon. 

“Please,” 

Rhysand led you into the bathroom, peeling the clothing off and helping you sit in the tub. “My mother will be here soon. To tide things over.” Rhysand moved behind you, kneeling on the marble floor. “Can I..?” You knew he was referring to your wings. “Yes,” Your fingers tingle as warmth blossoms in them. Despite the amount of mud coating your skin, the water stayed clear and warm. Rhysand was gentle as his fingers grazed your wings, healing the knicks and cuts in them. 

“When did you know?” You croaked after a moment, ashamed of how vulnerable you sounded. Now was not the time to cry like a child. “Two years ago,” Rhysand replied after a moment of hesitation. “Two  _ years _ ?” Why had he waited so long? Had he been humiliated at having an Illyrian mate? Was that what his mother was supposed to be fixing? You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“What happens now?” Without a doubt, you’d be punished for what Rhysand had done. “You’re the  _ heir _ . I know how this will end up.” Should you accept the bond, Rhysand and your children would only be a quarter faerie. Hardly any at all. You knew the Night Court hadn’t thought highly of your people — the sentiment returned — and you knew they wouldn’t follow any children you had. 

“How will it?” Rhysand questioned. “With my death,” Bitterness overwhelmed you. “You should’ve left me to their mercy,” You were at the mercy of the High Lord now. You laughed. “Cauldron boil me,” 

“I won’t let  _ anything  _ happen to you,” Rhysand swore. You laughed again, unable to help yourself. “Rhys, you hit the mating bond for two years for a reason.  _ Cassian  _ was the one to tell me and only because he didn’t have a choice,” You licked your lips. “We were doomed from the start,” 

“You don’t even know what they’ll say,” Now, Rhysand was rubbing your wings slightly, forcing your body to relax. Rhysand moved, frowning at the bruises and cuts that lined your body. “I should kill them all,” You nodded in agreement. “You should but not for me. For the others,” 

Rhysand took a rag, dipping it in the water before wiping your face. “I look like a mess,” You said. “Yeah,” Rhysand agreed. “I’d worry about worms going into your nose,” You blinked at him. “No wonder you’ve never had a lover,” Rhysand smiled, watching as you dunk your entire body in the water, getting your hair wet. Your ribs ache in protest at the moment, when you breathed for air, you looked down to see it mottled in yellow and red, knowing it would turn nearly black in a few days. “How do you know I haven’t?” He questioned. 

“I would’ve heard about it. Gods, I’ve heard about everything you’ve done,” Rhysand gently cleaned your broken nails. “Were you asking?” Rhysand hummed. “Absolutely not. I, quite frankly, had better things to worry about. Certain doom and all,” It was easy to be playful with him. You knew you should be shying away from him, naked and bare for a man you’ve hardly spent time with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Rhysand coughed slightly, disbelief was evident. 

“No! I  _ wasn't _ . Don’t be so egotistical,” You hissed, grinning. “I’m not the one stalking the other,” Rhysand replied, moving onto your hair. “I can do this myself, you know,” Rhysand hummed. “Surely. I want to,” You didn’t protest against, liking the feeling of his hands against you. “Are we forgetting that you found me when no one else should’ve?” 

“I was worried,” He says, lathering the soap in your hair. “The storm wasn’t as bad as predicted. If it was, you would’ve  _ died  _ out there,” You bit your lip, “I planned on flying away, hoping to find another camp that wouldn’t clip me. Or I’d stay there and hope I could survive on my own. It’s childish, yes, but it was the best I could dream of. You saved me and I’ll never forget that” Rhysand froze. “Do not think you  _ owe  _ me. Do not think you need to be with me or do anything you don’t wish because I saved your wings,” 

You turned around, noticing how Rhysand had blanched. “What…” 

“I’m serious, Y/n, I’ll make sure no one harms you for as long as you live. I won’t — don’t — expect you to accept the mating bond. Not unless you want. Even then, I don’t want you to think you have to stay,” His voice was nearly shaking. “Is this your way of rejecting me?” You asked. Rhysand laughed, “Cauldron, no. I just want you to know you have a  _ choice  _ in the matter,” 

Mates were rare in the village. There were Rhysand’s mother and father — and now you and him. How history repeated itself. Rhysand, however, swore he wouldn’t let that happen. He saw how his mother grew to despise his father. He  _ swore,  _ since the moment he knew of mates, that he wouldn’t force his own (should the Cauldron bless him with one) to be with him. He would do  _ anything  _ to make sure they were happy. 

And you were a  _ blessing _ . He often dreamt of the day the mating bond clicked in place. It was mid-summer and you and another female were sparring in the rings after dark. You were pinned to your back, laughing loudly as she held a sword to your throat. “Fine, fine,” You’d said, pushing the blade away from the smooth skin of your throat. “You  _ win _ ,” The other female had chuckled, holding out her hand to help you stand. “Without contest. I thought you were better than that,” You rolled your eyes, lips pulled into a sneer. “Let’s go again,” Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian had been at the treeline, reminiscing on their younger days, when your eyes skimmed his, not paying him a second glance. He nearly began choking on his wine, Cassian having to hit his back. 

Now, here you were, smiling at him. He forced his eyes on your face, thankful for the soapy water. “My cousin might be here,” You raised an eyebrow. “Morrigan?” You wrapped your hands together. “Now? This is the first conversation we’ve held,” You didn’t think meeting his family was wise. Not when they’d likely want you dead. 

Rhysand winced as if he hadn’t wanted to tell you something. “The Court might not react…  _ well _ to you and I being mates. My father’s advisors tolerated my mother, knowing that their son would marry a High Fae. With you being fully Illyrian, they might ask something of him,” You swallowed harshly. Hearing your fears confirmed was terrifying. “Morrigan is coming because I asked her to. Cassian sent for her. The upcoming weeks will not be easy and I apologize for that,” 

“Does he know?” You asked. “The Camp Lord most likely sent letters,” You let out a small huff. “You should’ve killed him,” 

Once you were downstairs, you found two females waiting for you. Sliding behind Rhysand, you watched as they both approached Rhysand, throwing their arms around him, kissing his cheek. The one you recognized as his mother, moved toward you. “You must be Y/n,” You nodded, Livia kissing your cheek. “Pleasure to meet you,” She hugged you, “I’m sorry about what they tried to do,” 

She’d gone through the same thing once. Nearly an identical ending. “Thank you, my lady,” Livia scoffed. “None of that now,” She turned back to Rhysand when he asked, “How’s Syrena?” A small, loving smile crossed her lips. “Syrena intends on coming soon. She hadn’t wanted your darling to be overwhelmed,” You blushed, Rhysand doing the same. “What… what did father say?”

“We’ll speak of it later,”  _ Not around Y/n  _ were the unspoken words. 

True to his word, the next few weeks were unsettling. You’d practically been shunned from the village, works of the Camp Lord or the effects of Rhysand’s threats, you couldn’t be sure. The meeting with Rhen was the worst, the male looking at you as if you were an  _ ant _ . Still, you hadn’t known whether or not he wanted you dead.  _ “My advisors do not make decisions for me,”  _ He told Rhys when asked.  _ “I decide _ ,” 

Now, sitting below a tree, you watched as the moon was hidden behind clouds, the stars brighter than the sun. You heard the crack of sticks before Rhysand sat down next to you. You leaned your head on his shoulder, slipping your hand with his own. “We should start over,” You said after a moment. “You know, since I now know your father isn’t going to mist me,” That hadn’t meant you were permitted to marry or have children. Though, neither of those were on your radar. 

Rhysand smiled at you, “Hello, I’m Rhysand,” You thought back to your first meeting, attempting to spar with him. You’d hated him for years after that until hatred your others grew, paling in comparison. “Hello,  _ Little Lord _ ,” Rhysand pressed his hand against his chest, muttering  _ wounded _ . “I’m Y/n,” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Rhysand says. You felt his minty breath against your cheek. You leaned in, kissing him softly. Rhysand’s fingers dug into your thigh, other hand sliding under your shirt as you moved to straddle him. “I’m grateful to have you,” Rhysand says softly, looking at you in a way that made your eyes burn. You slid off him, “Is that so?” Rhysand’s eyebrows furrowed. “If you wish for another kiss, you have to catch me first,” 

You heard the laughter boom where he sat. “Do you wish for a head start?” He called. You didn’t deign to answer him. Your wings took you off the ground, drifting in the wind as you moved to where this all started; the cave. If he hadn’t found you, he wouldn’t have known you were being clipped the next morning. You heard Rhysand flying behind you, his mocking call for you to  _ fly faster!  _ And  _ You aren’t very good at hiding! _

You landed gracefully, Rhysand following behind you, placing his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you fiercely. You led him into the cave, pushing him against the wall. “Thank you, Rhys,” You told him, “For everything,” 

“You have nothing to thank me for,” He breathed, kissing you until you couldn’t think straight. “My mother talked to my father and they agreed — do you wish to leave this camp?” His lips pressed against your cheek. “For the Court of Nightmares?” You pulled off his jacket, throwing it to the ground. “No,” He cupped your face. “You cannot repeat this, Y/n. No one can know,” You nodded. “There’s a city called Velaris, hidden from everyone. It’s been that way for thousands of years,” 

“And you want me to live there?” Your hands paused at the waistband of his pants. “You’ll be there, yes?” You didn’t want to live there without Rhysand. “If you want me to,” You blinked at him. “I wouldn’t be in this cave if I didn’t  _ want  _ you,” You wanted him in more ways than one. 

“In the morning,” He promised before the two of you finished what you started. 

Within the next week, you were settled in a house by the river. Velaris was beautiful, more than anything you could’ve imagined after living in the same camp all your life. Males, females, and children roamed the streets. They were… at  _ peace _ . “It’s rare to have someone new enter the city. My mother insisted,”  _ He wouldn’t have agreed otherwise _ . “It was a way to get his advisors to quiet down,” 

“It’s beautiful,” 

You knew the males of your village would ruin it. They would take the beauty and turn it into something ugly. “What are we supposed to do now?” You asked, turning around to face him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, noting how bright the violet was. The Cauldron  _ had  _ blessed you. “Anything you want,” 

You glanced at the bed then at him. “I  _ know  _ what I want,” 

Rhysand smirked. “I’m not one to deny my lovely mate,” His hands smoothed over your flesh, cupping your curves—

“Cauldron, Rhysand, get a  _ room _ !” A female’s voice nearly made you jump out of your skin. You let out a small yelp, meeting a girl with violet eyes and a mischievous smile. “She  _ just  _ got here, Rhys. Keep your dirty paws off her for a moment,” 

“Y/n,” Rhysand explained, rubbing the back of his neck and adjusting his pants. “Is my sister, Syrena,” Syrena held out her hand, grinning when you shook it. “I’ve heard tons about you. You should  _ see  _ the letters Rhysand sends. When he complains of a sore hand, I don’t know which it’s from. The wa—” 

“What do you want, Syrena?” Rhysand asked. Syrena had a look of mock annoyance. “Meeting your mate? You’re right, she’s pretty,” Syrena cocked her head to the side. “Do you wish to go to Rita’s?” 

“Syrena, get  _ out _ ,” 

“Fine! But I’ll be coming back later,” Syrena winked at you before she left. “Let me know if Rhysand gives you a hard time. I’ll kick his ass,” You nodded, laughing softly. Once she left, you turned to Rhysand. “I like her,” 

“Fifteen and she thinks she rules the world,” Rhysand says, giving you a soft look. “Where were we?” You huffed, “You were about to get your ass kicked by a fifteen-year-old,”

“Getting abused by all the females in my life,” Rhysand shook his head. “Just pitiful,” You kissed his cheek, disappearing into the kitchen to unpack. “And you love us anyway,” Rhysand, beside himself, smiled. “Yes, I do,” 

**Author's Note:**

> reader, rhysand's mom, and sister after tamlin, tam's father, and his brothers: i'm alive but i'm dead


End file.
